


Mistletoe

by eyrist



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akeshu/Shuake Secret Santa Exchange, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Dumbasses, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Mistletoe, akeshu - Freeform, shuake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21954760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyrist/pseuds/eyrist
Summary: Akechi Goro has never been one to celebrate the holidays. His Christmas has always either had him holding a gun or sitting through interview after interview— but things take a turn when, oh so very suddenly, he finds himself freed from the chains that kept him bound to the man he hated most.Where does that leave him? Well, with the last person he ever expected to be with.. in just more ways than one.[My gift for the lovely Myra. Happy holidays!]
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro & Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 112





	Mistletoe

City lights. The winter breeze. The sound of cars and jolly music and voices chattering past as he weaved through the crowd. Goro never really thought much of the Christmas season, never really minded nor liked it all too much. It was merely a _holiday_ to him, nothing that interfered with his life and his plans a whole lot. 

But of course, during this time of year, he’d get more personal questions than ever, be it online on his blogs or on interviews. People asked him about who he’d spend Christmas day with, which lucky girl held his heart among the lights and the decorations and the many, _many_ mistletoes scattered around the trees of the streets and parks around Shibuya. Every time, Goro would wink, smile, and hold a finger to his lips as if it was a secret he wanted to keep for himself— when in reality, he mostly spent the Christmas season taking advantage of the slippery ground and the chill of the air when executing his.. _other_ job.  
It was too easy to exploit the statistics of winter accidents to use for his benefit, after all, making faux-deductions out of the scenes he both investigated and instigated. His (former) employer was never more eager on giving him tasks than this time of year, so he only lowered his head and obeyed. 

At least, that was over now. 

But he didn’t really want to think of that at the moment, not when he was _free_. 

Which, perhaps, was why he found himself wandering into the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya, and then turning a corner, before finding himself staring up at the red and white sign above a quaint, lovely little café called none other than “ _Café Leblanc_.”   
Even from outside, he could already feel the warm atmosphere just pouring out of the windows, could smell the distinctive blend of spices and coffee that wafted within the establishment. The little café truly was his one sanctuary, away from work, and interviews, and fans, and _more_ work— he could relax for once, really get to enjoy his coffee without the feel of eyes scrutinising his every move. 

But well, he didn’t mind _one_ pair of eyes scrutinising him every now and then, whenever they faced one another before the chess board. He most likely wouldn’t get to see those obsidian gems for irises today, though, as Goro was close to _certain_ that Kurusu’s Christmas would be spent with a woman by his side. 

He’ll ignore that prickling little stab to his chest at the thought. He needed to get out of the rare snowfall upon Tokyo and into his favourite café. 

The tiny bell situated above the door chimed overhead as Goro stepped into Leblanc, the warm air of the establishment hitting his cheeks, enveloping him. Behind the bar, Boss gave him a welcome before turning towards the kitchen, already knowing what he was here for. Really, he’d ordered Leblanc’s house blend so much that he would’ve been surprised had Boss _not_ already known it was what (usually) brought him here. 

And so, with just a small smile gracing his features, Goro situated himself at his usual seat— the second closest to the door at the bar.   
He’d found himself relaxing as the sound of coffee machines and pots boiling lilted amongst the air, the homeliness a sharp contrast to the biting cold of the outdoors. From a radio sitting above the fridge, Goro recognised some Christmas songs quietly singing into the café, and he’d come to settle his gaze on it as he waited, a gloved hand to his cheek and his lids halfway down his eyes. 

He could fall asleep like this, he was sure. Leblanc was calming, like a little bubble tucked away from the world. Its atmosphere reminded him of _home_ , and if he closed his eyes, he could almost conjure the image of brown hair (like his) falling over petite shoulders, of red eyes (like his) so warmly gazing at him, of a smile (like his) brightening features that resembled _his_ so much that Goro would’ve thought she was a mirror-image of himself, all in his mind. His mother was truly beautiful, and it was most especially so on Christmas, if memory served him right— from years past, when his world was quiet and he was content waking within his mother’s embrace, amidst the cold of Christmas day. 

Lost in his reverie, Goro didn’t notice the presence lingering behind his figure as he hunched over the bar counter. Maybe it was because he hadn’t realised his eyes had closed; Maybe it was because he was just that stealthy to begin with, with steps that slinked like that of a cat’s and a form that almost flitted in and out of existence— graceful, silent, almost _deadly_.   
He was sure at this point that Kurusu could go head to head with him within the Metaverse, if not by his _fourteen_ personas (Heaven only knew how in the actual _Hell_ he could handle that many, when Goro’s two already gave him deathly headaches) then by the brute strength of his body alone. 

But ah, how could a boy with so much strength have such a gentle touch? Goro would probably never find the answer. 

“I’ll handle it from here, Boss.” 

That voice (so velvety and deceptively-deep) rang from above him as Goro reopened his eyes, straightening himself as he sat back up. When his gaze ran over the shelves behind the counter, he caught sight of Boss carrying his coffee over— along with tall, dark-dressing, and ~~handsome~~ warm Akira Kurusu tying an apron around his frame. 

The scent of Leblanc’s coffee wafted into Goro’s nostrils, and by _Gods_ was it amazing. He held no qualms about humming in delight to himself, albeit quietly, as he picked up the cup and blew into the piping hot drink. A little afterwards, the sound of the front door’s bell jingled as Boss thanked Kurusu then took his leave. 

Red eyes glanced up towards a void of stars and kindness, saw the small smile his lips had quirked into. 

“Happy holidays, Akechi.” 

Goro could only chuckle briefly, taking a sip of his drink soon after. When the splash of bitterness reached his tastebuds (before a hint of sweetness trailed behind) the brunette could swear he tasted a hint of ambrosia. The flavours were complex: a bit of nuttiness here, a dash of floral flavours there. There was a minuscule spice that tinged his tongue, and it was a blend of everything culminating into one _damn_ good cup of coffee. He’d be lying if he said Boss wasn’t the best barista he’s ever known. 

But again, he met those impossibly-dark eyes, right as his cup clinked with the saucer. Goro’s lips pulled apart to form a grin, showcasing his perfect teeth as he chuckled. 

“Happy holidays to you, too, Kurusu,” he replied, chin in hand as he leaned forwards on the counter, “No plans today? I pegged you for a ladies’ man, if I were to be honest.” 

Kurusu looked visibly shocked, eyes widening behind those thick glasses. His lips parted in a small ‘ _o_ ’ and Goro could see the way those broad shoulders tensed, caught the hint of pink dusting over his cheeks. It wasn’t too long before the boy shook his head, a small laugh bubbling from within his throat as he did. 

“Oh no, _no_. I’m single, Akechi”—he made to raise his hands, palms open as he laughed once more—“Don’t have anyone to spend Christmas with.” 

But then he dropped those lithe, strong arms back to his sides— and all too suddenly, so did his eyelids.   
Those black eyes of his gazed down upon Goro as he took another sip of his coffee, almost like he was trying to _seduce_ Goro. His stare focused on the brunette’s lips, even as he’d turned the corners up ever so delicately, ever so _mischievously_ , to take part in whatever game Kurusu had up his sleeve this time. 

“What about you, Detective Prince? Got a princess by your side today, or am I just assuming?” 

Goro wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his cheeks. Kurusu was _truly_ insufferable when he wanted to be— but, he supposed, that was part of the boy’s charm, too. 

“Unfortunately, Kurusu, you’ve followed the wrong lead.” 

He sat back, legs crossing almost _smugly_. Now, to ignore the fact that he might’ve just blatantly outed himself. 

_Nice_. 

“ _Okay_ ,” the boy began slowly, one hand on the counter surface, fingers tapping the wood in an almost-diabolical way, “Well then, can I come to the conclusion that you’ll be here the entire day, then?” 

Goro tilted his head to the right, stare never leaving that dark gaze as he smirked. 

“That depends on whether or not you still have errands to run,”

He leaned back towards the counter, elbows on the surface. 

”Or friends to see,” 

Cocked his head up to the boy. 

“Or maybe, a secret I haven’t figured out yet.” 

Kurusu met his stare, contact never broken. 

“And what would that secret be, Detective Prince?” 

Goro picked up his cup, took a sip as he relaxed back into the seat. 

“A new strategy you could try to beat me at chess with,” he’d say, tone casual, before taking another sip. 

There wasn’t much that happened between Kurusu almost blanching, and the chess board being set up on the booth nearest the front door. Goro had moved his cup and saucer over to where he sat at the booth, before the white side of the board; As always, Kurusu sat before the black side. As their first round of the day commenced, they found the conversation rolling smoothly between them even through the fight of wit and will. 

The _clack_ of wood landing on wood resounded as they took their turns moving their pieces across the board. 

“I could’ve sworn you and Nijima were an item, Kurusu.” 

_Clack_

“What—? _No_ , definitely not. I still gave her a gift, though.” 

_Clack_

A hum. 

“Ann?” 

_Clack_

“Nope. Wouldn’t she have told you about it if we were?” 

_Clack_

Well, he supposed that was true. 

“She _would_ have, but all I got from her this morning were pictures of the Vita you got her.” 

_Clack_

Kurusu shrugged, a smile playing at the curve of his lips. 

“Yeah, I saw her eyeing it a while back. We had a good haul from the last trip to Mementos so I figured why not splurge on gifts for the Thieves?” 

_Clack_

“Is that so?” 

_Clack_

A nod. 

“Futaba got those nice headphones from Electric Town, Haru got a punching bag, Yusuke got a new set of brushes, I bought Morgana a tray of good sushi, and Ryuji just asked for some extra money to add to his savings— next thing I hear, he’s got himself new running shoes and was planning on treating his mom to a nice dinner.” 

A chuckle. Their eyes met as Kurusu set down his King just a square forwards— He was either intentionally losing or this was a vain attempt at _figuratively_ reaching out to him. 

_Clack_

A beat of silence. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Kurusu’s lips curled up even higher. 

“You said once that you still believe in Santa Claus.” 

Goro raised a brow. 

“ _So_..? Where are you going with this?” 

A shrug. Those obsidian eyes began roaming around the café, as if he was thinking. 

“I don’t know, probably not your apartment’s chimney— I mean, I doubt your building even has one. You’d probably charge me for breaking and entering even when I’m supposed to be _dead_ , but..” 

And then, Kurusu stood from his seat, so abruptly that the couch must’ve been pushed back a few inches. His brows had furrowed down, stare determined as he moved out of the booth and began slinking towards the attic staircase. 

“Look, just— Just close your eyes and don’t move! I’ll be back in a sec!” 

It was probably not his best judgment holding the metaphorical ropes, at that moment. He was probably being stupid. Kurusu could very well try to repay him for the events of the month before. Why was he even following the boy’s orders? Why did he leave himself vulnerable? He should probably prepare for a knife to the throat. Or a rope around his wrists. Or maybe a—

The sound of footsteps pounding down from the wooden staircase disrupted his train of thought.   
With eyes closed, Goro could hear the boy running down the steps, jogging until a quiet _screech_ resounded from the couch being pulled back into place. After a pause (in which all he could hear were soft, shallow breaths, and the quiet Christmas music from the radio) there was a plop before him, and then—

“ _Okay_. Open them up.” 

—and then, Kurusu’s voice. It was quiet, almost _hesitant_ , like he was afraid. Slowly, Goro would reopen his eyes, his gaze first finding the anxious stare of the boy with black hair before him— and then, they caught on a flat box, wrapped in gold wrapping paper and tied with red and gold ribbons. It was placed on the side of the chess board, pushed towards him. 

There was a confusion that bloomed within his mind, at first. He didn’t quite know what that was doing there, or whom it was for— but Kurusu’s words from earlier rang back within his head, and when the flash of recognition spread throughout his features, he heard the leader of the Phantom Thieves chuckle. 

“I said _all_ of the Thieves got gifts, Akechi. That means _you_ , too.” 

And it was.. a _first_. He hadn’t exactly gotten a gift from someone that _cared about him_ in so long— he’d frankly forgotten how to react. 

His hands were hesitant as he reached out to pick up the gift, felt almost like this was a trap when he’d pulled the end of the ribbon and unfolded all of it. For a moment, he gave Kurusu a question with the look in his eyes, almost like he’d asked for permission to really _unwrap_ this, asked if it was actually _his_ — and in return, all he got was a smile, and a nod. 

And it was satisfying to hear the rip of the wrapping paper as he’d pulled on it from the middle. It brought him a bit of joy to tear into it, much like he used to as a child. When he’d discarded the paper onto the table and lifted the lid off the box, his eyes were wide with anticipation and his jaw slacked, lips parting, as he ducked closer to see the contents within. 

What stared back at him was his face, smiling. Running his eyes over the rest of it, he’d see the faces of Kurusu, Sakamoto, Ann, Kitagawa, Nijima, Futaba, Okumura, and Morgana all looking up at him, all with wide grins on their cheeks and a happiness in their eyes. He saw the tired—though glad—look in his eyes, the warm lighting of Leblanc above them, the cake with icing that spelled “ _Congratulations_!” He could remember that day with perfect clarity. 

It was the day after he’d been discharged from Takemi's clinic, just a fortnight after the 20th of November. Even through all of the vile things he’d done to them, they’d still thrown him a celebration for his recovery— and though he still couldn’t believe that wasn’t a fever dream of desperation, he could still remember how he felt almost _happy_ at the event. It was.. one of the few good memories he’d had in a long time. 

He tried to be careful as he lifted the brown, wooden frame out of the box, bringing the photo closer to his face as if to inspect its authenticity: whether or not it was actually _real_. 

His thumb swiped over the glass, eyes focused on the image— of the memories attached to it, of the _feelings_ that grew on it. He was a boy who had just a bit of trouble trying to trust others, of trying to let himself relax around those other than himself, and on that day.. He could maybe say that on the day he was discharged, he didn’t feel as tense around the Phantom Thieves of Hearts as he would’ve come to expect. 

And that got to him. He didn’t even realise it when tears had begun sliding down his cheeks as he looked at the photo, not until a drop landed on the glass. 

Hastily, he’d rub the sleeve of his sweater across his eyes, a shaky smile fighting its way up his lips. 

“Th..”—he hiccupped—“Thank you.” 

“What? Don’t thank _me_ , the Thieves got you this. They just asked me to hand it to you.” 

Goro peered at him from behind his sleeve, a dubious smile on his lips. In response, Kurusu laughed that nice, smooth laugh of his, shook his head in the way that was so.. _him_. 

“No, I’m not even kidding this time, I _promise_!” The boy settled his gaze on Goro. “My present is another thing, but I’m not so sure you’ll like it.” 

A red and black card met him then, as Kurusu outstretched his hand to offer it to Goro. Rubbing his eyes just one last time, he’d set the picture back down into its box before letting the box sit on the couch beside him— and when he’d accepted the card, and their hands brushed against one another for just a _second_ , Goro could’ve sworn that Kurusu was having a heart attack. He couldn’t say that he wasn’t internally having one, too. 

_Ironic for the supposed Phantom Thieves of **Hearts**. _

* * *

_Red, White, and Green_

_You’ll see it every Christmas, even to New Year’s Eve_

_Standing beneath it throws you into a fate_

_Of locking lips, even with one who’s not your mate_

* * *

“A mistletoe?” Goro would blurt, right after reading through the lines. Confused, he’d look back to Kurusu, whose cheeks had flushed a shade of pink and whose eyes would glance, ever so briefly, up towards the light above their booth. 

Following his sight, Goro would spot mistletoe hanging above the coloured glass— and then, a familiar red and black card taped to its cord. 

He didn’t have a second thought before standing on the tips of his toes and snatching it, eyes immediately going over the words. 

* * *

_But is it too much for me to ask_

_If this Christmas, all I’ll have is you at last_

_There’s a flame that sparked when I met you, see_

_Before we argued on live TV_

* * *

Goro would look to Kurusu again, cards in hand. He couldn’t deny the heat that spread across his cheeks, at the implications this boy was making and the heart attack he was going to have _because_ of it. With a small frown on his lips, he’d stand. 

“What are you trying to say here?” 

But Kurusu would only shake his head, a shaky, small smile on his cheeks. 

“Follow the clues and find out for yourself, Detective Prince. It’s all here in Leblanc.” 

Alright.. Alright, he can play this game. 

“Treasure hunt it is..” he’d mutter— but there was no lying to himself, not when his pulse raced at triple time and his cheeks betrayed the casualness he wanted to portray. 

_Flame.. Flame.._

“Kitchen—” Goro would mumble, back turning to Kurusu and padding over to the kitchen. 

He’d search the shelves first, and then the fridge— and when nothing turned up from there, behind the equipment. At some point, he heard the TV turn off. 

Then made his way to it after re-reading the card. 

His next clue was taped behind the TV. 

* * *

_You know me as a thief, that I cannot deny_

_But the theft this time was not because of I_

_Like in chess, you captured my king_

_Now ask yourself, what is it that I am missing?_

* * *

“A brain,” Goro would say bluntly. At that, Kurusu had perked up, lips turning down into a deep frown— which he tried to fight. 

“Hey!” 

But then he’d laugh, that rich, velvety laugh spilling from his lips as he tried to contain it. Goro himself couldn’t help but snicker as he strode to their chess board, looking over the pieces taken off of it— and then he realised, there was only _one_ place he could hide a card among a chess board. 

And it was awkward trying to scoot it over the table so Goro could retrieve the card (stuck underneath the wooden board) without making their pieces fall over, but _by_ _God_ , he did it. 

Goro wore a satisfied smirk as he read the card— the final one, it seemed.

* * *

_In your hands, I hope you know_

_That you’re holding something very precious, not for show_

_I don’t know when you started taking it part by part_

_But now you know, that you’ve stolen my heart_

* * *

And it was hard trying to stop his face from heating up. It was _impossible_ trying to control the violent _thump, thump, thump_ of the goddamn war drum within his chest— and though he knew a brilliantly-rich shade of red coloured Kurusu’s cheeks the same way it did to his, it was.. _difficult_.. figuring out what to do next.   
Because he was always prepared for any and all situations. He’d been doing the whole shtick his entire life— but it was because he was always in control of things. 

Did he have control of the emotions of one of the most formidable opponents he’s ever come across in his life? _No_. 

His own emotions, which he didn’t even realise he felt for (quite possibly) the smuggest, cockiest, self-confident fucking show-off in all of history? _Fuck no._

Knowing what the fuck to do when his feelings are reciprocated by said smuggest, cockiest, self-confident show-off in history? _Hell to the fucking **no**_. 

So, in essence, Goro had mentally short-circuited. And this was _not_ good. 

This was not good at _all_. 

“ _So_ —” Goddammit Goro wasn’t ready to talk yet. “Akechi, are you okay?” 

Quietly, Goro would settle himself back onto the couch. 

“You know you don’t have to give me an answer right now, right? I wouldn’t— I don’t want to pressure you into _anything_ —” 

And he’d set the cards down beside the chess board. 

“I just.. I _had_ to tell you. I wanted to be honest with you and—” 

_Clack_

White king was a square closer to Black King. 

Slowly, Goro would stand, his lips pursed into a tight, thin line. His face had flushed a shade shy from resembling a cherry, his fists balled into fists, and all he could think to do in that moment was to grab onto Kurusu’s sweater and pull him in. 

And all of a sudden, the world was quiet again. 

He was clumsy, he knew. Kurusu was clumsy, too— but it didn’t matter. The cold of the outdoors didn’t matter; The chess pieces tumbling over their table didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that they’d nearly knocked over Goro’s half-empty cup of coffee, nor did it matter that they almost bumped their heads onto the coloured glass shade of the lightbulb above them. 

What mattered was the warmth beneath his fingertips. What mattered was the scent of Kurusu’s everything filling his nostrils. What mattered was the clumsy brush of their lips against one another and the hand that caressed Goro’s cheek, the taste of coffee on the boy’s lips, the sweet, chaste kiss they shared beneath the mistletoe above their heads. 

What mattered, in that moment, was that the world had gone quiet for a few, fleeting seconds, as they connected in the way that Goro had _yearned_ for, possibly since the day they’d met. 

And when they parted, and Kurusu’s eyes had fallen on him, Goro could feel all the _warmth_ and _affection_ flood into his veins. It made his heart dance in a triple-time beat, flooded him with a high that had a smile pinned up his cheeks— one that was mirrored on Kurusu’s features. 

The boy released a small, quiet laugh, right as Goro had come over and sat on the spot beside him. Somehow, their hands had found each other, fingers intertwined and heads resting on one another— and Goro found himself asking why this didn’t happen _sooner_. 

“What’s so funny?” Goro would ask, a small sigh of content escaping his lips. 

“Nothing just.. I guess that makes me your first kiss under the mistletoe, huh?” 

Goro would smile down on him, a small chuckle of his own reverberating from his throat. 

“And my second,” 

He pressed his lips to Kurusu’s once more. 

“And third,”

And again. 

“And fourth,” 

Once more. 

“And—”

But then he’d get cut off, Kurusu himself lunging forwards just a bit to seal their lips into a kiss once again. When he’d pulled back, there was a satisfied smile (almost like a cattish smirk) decorating his features. 

“And fifth, huh?” the boy would tease, grin toothy and wide. 

Goro would laugh, and yet again, rest his head upon Kurusu’s. 

“All of them.” 

“I like the sound of that, but—” 

A pause. 

“Call me Akira from now on, okay?” 

Another laugh, hearty and warm and content. 

“Alright, _Akira_.” 

The world was quiet— even amongst the jolly Christmas music, and the hum of the fridge. Even amidst the chatter from outside and the howl of the winds. The world was quiet, _warm_ , and tucked into one of the booths of a small, quaint café called Leblanc, Goro found the reason why. 

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays y'all !! especially to myra, who i got for this year's shuake secret santa ! 
> 
> i did my best with the prompts, sorry i couldn't add in that snowball fight :'^)) 
> 
> listen list ? i just binged baby it's cold outside by idina menzel and michael buble lmao


End file.
